


Thalassophobia

by Zighana



Series: Breathing Underwater [1]
Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: Assault, Character Death, F/M, Gang Violence, Gen, Guilt, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-14 17:09:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zighana/pseuds/Zighana
Summary: Ruby deals with the trauma of surviving.





	1. The Ghost In the Treasure Chest

Ruby wakes to a blinding white light and the smell of antiseptic.

His mouth feels like cotton, his head heavy. 

He feels like he'd slept for an eternity. 

His eyes focus; he's surrounded by sleeping family members and rosary beads, lying across his body like he was a resurrected Jesus, his mother the grieving Virgin Mary. He moves his hand to stroke her hair, and it's then she notices her son has finally woken up.

The rest is a blur; doctors and nurses swarm the room, asking him questions and pulling tubes out of places he'd much rather not think about. His friends are there, but Cesar isn't there. And neither is Olivia.

He remembers, now; the quince, the gunshots. Olivia's chest stained with blood while he rasps for air. 

"Olivia?" He rasps out. The chatter halts. His mother's eyes well up and it took all the strength he had left not to collapse.

Olivia's dead.

"We're sorry, mijo..." his mother starts, but he stops her. 

There's no coming back from this.

 

~~~~

The diagnosis was simple; collapsed lung, huge loss of blood caused him to go into a shock. He needed a blood transfusion as well as tend to the collapsed lung. Lucky for him, someone donated blood that was his blood type and the doctors were quick and thorough in chest-related trauma. He was to take antibiotics and take it slow for the next few weeks. He was sent home in a wheelchair, the doctor clasping his hand on his shoulder, telling him had the ambulance delayed by three minutes he'd be dead, just like Olivia.

He'd be in the _morgue_ with Olivia right now. 

The news does little to comfort him.

He moves back into his bedroom, the ghost of Olivia still there; her photos, clothes, a few trinkets of makeup and hair scattered on the dresser. He sits down on the bed, running his fingers over the pajamas she slept in weeks before, grief welling up in his body.

She was just fifteen. Just turned fifteen. What was supposed to be the happiest day in his life turned out to be her last.

His eyes prickle, the tears are falling before he could control them. For the first time in a long time, he cries. He lies on his side, sobbing into Olivia's pajama top. He lets his grief, his anger, his guilt, pour out until his body have nothing left to give. 

He falls asleep after.

 

~~~~

School was hard.

Before he could set one foot in the classroom he's flooded with applause and girls he'd never even said hello to embrace him in tight hugs, sobbing on his shoulders. He got told that he was a hero, a man that risked his life to save someone else's. He got shot and survived. The golden boy _lived_.

He felt like a liar. He didn't save anyone. He couldn't save Olivia. Olivia's dead and he almost died with her. On her quince. He did nothing but become collateral for some gang beef that had no place there in his home, the place where he should feel the safest.

He smiles as people insist on selfies with him, answers painfully intrusive questions of what happened during the shooting in graphic detail, ignoring the fact that he wants to run and hide remembering hearing the pops of a gun, his body jerking as phantom bullets slice through him like he was paper. He grits through it each period, secretly wanting them to leave him the _fuck_ alone.

Monse and Jamal take over, acting as his bodyguards as he's escorted to lunch among the students taking snaps and pictures of him walking to a lunch table to eat his food in peace. 

"No more questions, no more pictures, Mr. Martinez would like to enjoy his lunch in peace." Monse tells another student that wanted to take a photo of him. Ruby tears into a chicken nugget, forcing himself to eat. 

"Man, dude. You're like a celebrity!" Jamal muses as flashes of cameras still break out. Ruby's stabbing his corn, his grip on the fork making it snap in half on impact.

"Are you okay, Ruby?" Monse asks.

"No." Ruby snaps. Jamal and Monse exchange glances but otherwise drops it. 

"If you want to talk--"

"This is Cesar's fault." 

"Ruby..."

"He is the reason Olivia's is gone and I'm stuck popping antibiotics. I hate to say it, but Cesar brought that shit to my house. He brought _death_ to my fucking house." 

"Ruby, I know you're hurting, but Cesar didn't have a choice and you know that..."

"I'm so sick and tired of you making _excuses_ for him. Just because _you're_ sucking his dick don't mean _we_ have to!"

Monse slaps him across the face. The atmosphere stops. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Ruby looks at her, his temper creeping to the surface. 

"You know what?" Ruby says, grabbing his lunch tray.

"Fuck you. And fuck Cesar too." 

 

~~~

Ruby's barely out the gate of the school when he sees Spooky's trademark cherry red car. No Cesar in sight. He turns the other way when he hears,

_"Get in, Ruby. Now."_

He didn't need to be told twice.

He gets in the backseat, buckling up. 

"Have you seen Cesar?" Spooky asks.

"No, I haven't. Not since the quince."

Spooky's body tense up at the last word. 

"I'm sorry what happened to you and Olivia. That shit shouldn't have happened."

"Yeah. It shouldn't have."

"I've been hearing things. Hearing rumors that Latrelle is behind this." Spooky turns to him, his stare making the knots in Ruby's gut tighten.

"How can a dead man be responsible for a homicide and an attempted one, and then turn himself in?"

"Turn himself in?"

"From what I heard, Latrelle came into the police station and confessed to the shooting. He's booked on a _$250,000 bail_. Do you understand where I'm going with this."

"...no."

"The cops are going to come sniffing at your door now that you're out of the hospital. They're going to need you to identify Latrelle in the people that shot you and do a head count of who's at the party. _You never saw Cesar. Cesar never showed up to your party._ "

"Spooky..."

"You never. Saw. Cesar. Make up whatever details you want, but you never saw Cesar."

"There's other witnesses-"

"But they're zeroing in on you. You're the victim. You need to remember that Cesar wasn't there."

"What are you going to do? With Cesar, I mean-"

"Mind your business and do what I say. _Comprendes_?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good. Now get out." 

Ruby slides out of the backseat and starts walking. 

~~~

"Your mama and I have been talking, and we think it'd be best you go...talk to someone."

His eyes meet his parents.

Clutched in their hands, is a pamphlet and a card he reads, "Diane Hernandez, Therapist."

"You think I need to see a shrink? Weren't you the same ones that think mental illness can be solved with prayer?" Ruby counters.

"That was then. This is now. You almost lost your life. I think you can benefit from...talking about it with someone. Someone who has a little more experience. Jamal was nice enough to pay for three sessions. She's good, Ruby. We've done the research."

"Your mother is right."

The pamphlet and car is nudged into his skin,

"Try it at least."

Ruby takes it."

Eyeing the card, he inhales sharply.

"Okay,"


	2. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby tries therapy.

_"So...what goes on in the life of Ruby?"_

Ruby is back in reality. 

Diana Hernandez is staring back at him with calm green eyes, tapping her pen against her notebook.

"Uh...It's...I wake up, get dressed, make sure the twins are dressed and out the door and... go to school. Hang out with friends, and I come home." 

"Sounds like you got a routine."

"I guess you could say that." 

"Would you consider yourself a routine-oriented person? A boy who likes order?"

"I...guess, I-"

"I see you're shutting down. Ruby, you may not believe this, but you are in a safe place. Whatever is said here stays here. There's no judgment here."

"I know. I just don't want to talk about it."

"We'll talk about that when you're ready. I understand that. For now, we could talk about school, work, crushes. Whatever you like."

"I want to talk about...nothing. I don't want to talk."

"Okay. We can just sit in silence if you'd like."

And they do. Ruby lies on the couch, hearing the rhythmic ticking of a clock before he drifts off to sleep. When he wakes up, the timer went off and Diana is shaking him gently, her bangles sounding like a wind chime. 

"Time's up." She says with a soft smile. 

 

~~~~

"So...how's the therapy session?"

"Terrible. She didn't do anything. She just talked all...airy. Like a yoga instructor. Felt like I had to do a warrior pose just to talk to her." Ruby says over his shoulder. Jamal raises an eyebrow but says nothing, instead turning back to his desk to write.

"What did you guys talk about?" Jamal prods.

"Nothing. I just...fell asleep." Ruby replies, throwing a shirt over his body. He lies back on the bed. 

"I know mental health is important, and so is seeing a therapist, but I don't need to talk to someone right now. I got _shot_ and the love of my life is gone."

"That sounds like something you need to talk about with someone. It also sounds like you're not giving her a chance."

"I don't like telling people my business."

"She's paid and trained to hear people's business and not judge, though."

"Can we just...not talk about this?"

"Ruby, I paid for two weeks with her. I'm telling you, once you give her a chance, she's good. You got to believe me."

"Did you go to her?"

"No, but my dad did. He went to her after he learned Prince died."

"Was...that when...?"

"He dressed up like Prince, forced the football team to wear purple, and replaced the national anthem with Purple Rain for two weeks? Yes." 

"And she fixed _that_?"

"Just give her a chance."

Ruby closes his eyes and sighs.

" _Fine._ "

 

~~~

"Would you like to take a nap again?"

"No, I...I wanna talk about Olivia." Ruby says, averting his gaze. Diane smiles softly.

"When I first met her, I was in love. I thought, she was going to be my wife, you know? I already had our wedding plans and what we were going to name our son. Ruben Jr. of course." he says, his voice cracking.

"It should've been me. Why couldn't it have been me?" He breaks into tears. He sobs in front of her, who grabs a box of tissues and hands them to him. 

"Survivors' Guilt is pretty common to those that have suffered from acts of violence. I want you to know that it's okay to feel the way you feel, but remember...it's not your fault. You didn't pull the trigger, nor did you expect someone to come into your place of safety and violate it. It's not your fault, and you don't have to be alone in this." Diana says. Ruby blows into the tissue. She digs into her coat and pulls out a card.

"I think one on one sessions don't benefit you because loneliness gives you anxiety. You work well surrounded by other people who feel the way you feel." 

"What are you saying?" Ruby asks.

"I'm saying let's try Group Therapy. I work with other survivors of gun violence who share their stories and work towards moving on from their trauma. They can do it, and you can too."

"I don't-"

"Just one session. It's on me, free of charge. It starts in an hour."

Ruby bites his lip and frowns.

"Okay. I'll try it. Fifteen minutes. If I don't like it then I'm done. Period point blank."

"Fair." 

 

~~~

Ruby sits in a circle with a multitude of people from all walks of life, the youngest being a seven year old boy, who's in a wheelchair. The coffee cup in his hand is shaking so bad it sloshes onto his pristine white shirt.

Diane sits center, a binder clutched in her lap.

"Hello, guys." She says.

"Hello, Diane." Everyone says in chorus.

"I would like to say welcome back to our members Janet and Donovan, who'd just come back from New Orleans." She gestures to the black couple across from Ruby. They're holding hands, wearing matching t-shirts of someone's face on them with spray-painted "In Loving Memory" at the top. 

"I know that some of you are new here, so I'd like you to introduce yourselves, starting with...Ruby. Say hello, Ruby."

All eyes are on him. He swallows thickly and raises his hand.

"Hi." He croaks out.

"Hi, Ruby." They all greet in unison. 

The newcomers greet themselves, one of them, a deaf girl named Francine, signing out her name while her aid translates. 

After the introductions came the stories; each one more heartbreaking and painful than the last. Ruby feels uncomfortable when the deaf girl signed out her story: Her ex-husband beat her within an inch of her life before shooting himself in the face. When he shot himself, the gunshot was so loud it caused permanent hearing loss. He squirms as she signs out how she wanted to die and asked God out of all the people he spared, he spared _her_ , a nobody.

The seven-year old boy had watched his friends get gunned down for being at the wrong place at the wrong time and wound up with a bullet that paralyzed him from the waist down. The boy told a room full of adults and parents that he wanted to _die_ , every single day, because of what happened to him. 

Ruby was moved to tears.

Then came his turn. 

Ruby relayed his tale to a stone-faced audience and tried not to break down as he described Olivia outside of the cold description on the newspaper. 

"The thing is, I have to go to my room...every night...knowing she used to sleep there. I'd smell her, I'd see the suitcase she never fully unpacked and...I pretend she's still here, she's just...in the shower or in the kitchen. It keeps me from losing my mind. Part of me wished I could've died with her that night. And...I still do."

Silence.

"Thank you for telling your story, Ruby. That's the first step to overcoming your grief. You are surrounded by people who feel what you feel. You're not alone, here. Remember that." Diana says. 

After the group therapy meeting, Ruby is snacking on a danish and taking sips of the cucumber water. Diana walks over to him, hands clasped.

"That was more than fifteen minutes. I take it you like it...?"

"It was...good. It felt...good." He confesses.

"Can I expect you to be here next week?" She asks.

"Yeah." He replies. 

Diana nods and walks away. 

A fat black girl with braids walks over to the snack tray, helping herself to a pastry and the water as well. She looks over at Ruby and smiles.

"I heard about you on Twitter." She says. Her expressions turns somber.

"Sorry about your girlfriend, though. I give my condolences."

"Thank you. You are...?" Ruby asks. She holds out her hand.

"Cleopatra. But I go by Cleo for short. I've been coming here for a while." She says. Ruby takes her hand and shakes.

"What's your story?" He asks.

"My friend...shot himself...right in front of me. I, like any person that is covered in blood and brain matter, lost my shit and got put on a 51/50 hold. So, here I am." She answers, knocking back the water. The light in her eye dims slightly as she looks down. 

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry-"

"-It's okay. It's been...three years, now. I've been coming here and it's good for me. I even made friends."

"Does it get easier?" 

She pauses. She sloshes the cup before giving him an answer.

"Nothing gets easier. It just...gets less painful over time. Enough years pass and it stops hurting and you accept it."

"Did it stop hurting for you?"

She chuckles.

"No. Grief takes an awful long time to process and heal from. You can never come back from something like that so quickly. You just...take it a day at a time. That's the hard part."

She finishes her cup and chucks it, tossing it into the trash. She gives him a sad smile and leaves him to his thoughts.


End file.
